


love is not a victory march

by youmeandem



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 00:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13892133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmeandem/pseuds/youmeandem
Summary: Angela recognizes the accent immediately. She recognizes the voice immediately.Amélie Lacroix.or:widowmaker needs mercy's help





	love is not a victory march

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YURIPIRATE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YURIPIRATE/gifts).



At some point during the night, Angela must’ve fallen asleep. The candle she’d used to work has gone out and she’s surrounded by darkness. She shivers, feeling around for the hoodie that she’d brought with her, sliding it over her head. With bags under her eyes, hair up into a messy bun, and her Valkyrie-suit thrown somewhere into a corner. She brought it, meant to use it, but in all the months she’d been here she hasn’t touched it once.

She hadn’t meant to stay in the Middle East this long. She’d meant to reply to Winston’s message to regroup Overwatch and kindly decline his offer—especially if his plan was to continue down the same path as they had before. Overwatch helped her establish her reputation as a healer, and she’s convinced they would only hold her back if she rejoined them in their illegal activities. The risks were too great. The losses she’d already suffered too hard.

She’d meant to leave for Numbani to help with the aftermath of Akande Ogudimu’s attack, but every time she started to pack up, something would happen that required her to stay longer.

With a yawn she shoves her chair backwards from the desk she’d been working at. She has every intention to go to bed, but then she hears footsteps approaching her door.

She reaches for her gun by instinct, years of experience in the field having trained her reflexes for potentially dangerous situations, ready to pull it. The doors is pushed open. A dark figure steps inside, carrying something.

“What do you want?” Angela asks, slowly backing away from the figure. She doesn’t want to have to use her gun, but she will, if she has to. She’s infinitely more valuable alive than dead, that’s for sure.

The figure stops. It’s too dark to see anything except a darker shape against an almost just as dark background—after ten, all lights need to be turned off to save energy and much needed resources, so at this time of night the moon is the only source of light.

“Who are you?” Angela tries again.

The figure takes a step closer. Angela’s thumb is ready to flick off the safety on her gun. Then the figure speaks. “You have to do something for me.”

Angela recognizes the accent immediately. She recognizes the _voice_ immediately.

Amélie Lacroix.

Angela is frozen in shock. She hasn’t heard Amélie’s voice in years, not since she left for Talon. For a moment, she’s back in the med bay where they’d brought her after her kidnapping, staring down at Amélie’s unconscious form. If she’d known then what she knows now, she never would’ve cleared her. But she’d seemed so… normal. Nothing in her physiology could have predicted the events that would happen two weeks later, and Angela still wonders, to this day, if she could’ve done more and stopped it all from happening.

“What do you need?” Angela asks, hoping Amélie doesn’t pick up on how shaky she sounds.

“Fix her.” Amélie raises her arms a little, and for the first time Angela realizes that she isn’t holding a thing, but a person. A woman.

Angela’s eyes flicker from where Amélie’s head must be to the unmoving woman in her arms. She doesn’t appear to be conscious, and the weight of her body should be an enormous strain on Amélie, but she doesn’t show any signs of exertion. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Angela knows she could use this opportunity to learn more about what Talon did to Amélie, but it’s not the time nor place for that when there might be another life at stake.

“Put her on my bed,” Angela says, gesturing in the general direction of where her bed is. Her studio apartment is small, just big enough to fit the absolute necessities, but she never intended to use it for more than a few weeks so she hadn’t thought she’d need more.

While Amélie moves to follow Angela’s instructions, Angela feels around for the light switch. Lights are allowed in case of emergencies. An unconscious woman brought in by a member of Talon seems emergency enough.

She closes the front door and the blinds, then flicks on the lights. Amélie looks nothing like Angela remembers her. Her skin-tight outfit exposes the blue color of her skin, and her hazel eyes are almost completely emotionless as she stares at Angela.

Angela’s heart clenches as she realizes there might be nothing left of the Amélie she knew and loved. She has to tear her eyes away from the empty expression on Amélie’s face, hanging on to the tiny hint of worry hiding behind the façade. Worry for her friend, or whatever the woman is to her.

With that, Angela forces herself to look at the woman currently lying on her bed. At first sight nothing seems to be wrong with her. Half of her head is shaved to reveal two purple plates that seem to disappear into her skin, and upon closer inspection Angela finds the same types of plates on her hands.

“Who is this?” she asks.

“Sombra,” Amélie says. “We were on a mission when she suddenly collapsed and didn’t get back up.”

Angela presses two fingers to the side of Sombra’s neck, relieved to find a strong and steady pulse. “Why did you bring her to me?”

Amélie shrugs. “We were in the area.”

Angela doesn’t mention the fact that there is no way Amélie should’ve known she was here in the first place if she hadn’t been keeping tabs on her, focusing all her attention on Sombra instead. “Is she cybernetically enhanced?”

“Yes.”

“I need more equipment,” Angela says, gesturing around her. “This place isn’t exactly meant to be functioning as a medical center.”

“You have to do it here,” Amélie says, crossing her arms over her chest. “If anyone finds out we’re here they’re going to alert the authorities and Talon will find out we strayed from our mission.” She pauses, then adds, “I’m supposed to leave her and finish the mission by myself if something happens. Clearly I didn’t follow the rules.”

Angela looks at Amélie. “Why didn’t you?”

“We’re friends,” Amélie says, gesturing her hand like it doesn’t mean anything that the woman who killed her own husband in his sleep would end her mission to save a friend. She must’ve noticed Angela’s staring, because she lets out a sigh. “She didn’t know me _before_ , and she doesn’t want anything from me. I’m not even sure she likes me. It’s nice.”

Angela frowns. Befriending someone who might not even like you doesn’t sound _nice_ , but she tries very hard not to judge Amélie or be jealous of Sombra for getting to spend time with her. Nothing about Amélie indicates that she’s still the same person from before, so she might as well be a stranger. And you’re not supposed to care this much about strangers.

“Well, anyways, I can’t treat her here. I need to examine her more thoroughly and run a few tests, and without the right equipment, my hands are tied.”

Amélie pinches the bridge of her nose. “Reaper’s going to kill me.” Then, with one swift movement, she sweeps Sombra up from the bed. “Where do we have to go?”

“The clinic’s just around the corner,” Angela says, barely suppressing the urge to ask for some samples from Amélie, too. If only she could figure out what happened to her she could start working on a way to reverse the effects. To get her Amélie back.

They move in silence. Despite the heels on Amélie’s shoes, she walks without sound, and even though they see an omnic guard across the street they make it into the clinic without any problems. Angela sneaks them in through a back door where they won’t be running into any patients or staff members, guiding Amélie to an abandoned examination room located at the end of the hallway. Hopefully no one will disturb them here.

After all these years, Angela had thought she would’ve moved on from Amélie, but being in her presence again makes her skin crawl with want. Apparently even a complete 180 on Amélie’s personality can’t stop Angela’s feelings for her, even though she’s sure, now more than ever, that they’re unrequited.

Amélie puts Sombra on the examination table, her hand brushing against Angela’s. Her skin is cold like stone, but soft, and Angela hopes Talon didn’t somehow give Amélie a heightened sense of hearing because her heart beats against her chest with such force she’s half convinced even someone with normal hearing could hear it.

“Can you stand over there, please? Keep watch for if someone comes over,” she hears herself saying, finding it impossible to focus on Sombra if Amélie is within two meters of her.

Amélie does as she’s asked without question, but continues to occasionally stare intently as Angela runs a few tests on Sombra.

The first few come up negative, indicating that there’s nothing wrong with the human part of her.

“Do you know how extensive her cybernetic implants are?”

Amélie doesn’t look at her when she says, “She doesn’t need a physical computer anymore.”

“That’s pretty extensive,” Angela mutters to herself. She turns over Sombra’s hands in hopes of finding a port somewhere, but her skin is smooth. “I think a hack or a virus in her cybernetic parts are influencing her central nervous system.”

“Sombra doesn’t get hacked,” Amélie says, slightly defensively. “She’s the best hacker on the planet.”

“Artificial intelligence is more powerful than you think,” Angela shrugs. She taps her fingers against the side of the examination table, trying to think of something to do that could wake Sombra up without permanently hurting her. “Someone’s out for her.”

“Everyone’s out for her,” Amélie says, waving her hand. “It’s part of this line of work.”

Angela studies her for a bit. All the tethers to her life before Talon might have been cut, but maybe, despite everything, new ones are forming. Which means that if she plays her cards right, she could have Amélie back in her life. Blue or not, she has to try.

“If I’m right, she should be able to wake up. She just won’t have control of whatever cybernetic parts she has.” She looks at Amélie.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

Angela starts preparing a mixture that should aid Sombra in waking up, at least in part, and wastes no time injecting it into her veins.

“What’s that?” Amélie asks, and for a moment she sounds just like before. Soft. Caring. Full of curiosity. Everything that Angela fell in love with, and everything she misses every second of every day. For a moment, she can fool herself that it’s really Amélie standing in this room with her right now, and not the ruthless assassin Talon made of her. Then she opens her eyes and sees Amélie’s blue skin and suddenly it feels like all the air has been knocked out of her lungs.

“Uh—” she stutters, struggling to get her thoughts back in order. “Dopamine, mostly.”

They wait in silence for a few minutes, and Angela can barely stand it. She imagined this moment countless times; Amélie coming back to her. She imagined it in a thousand different ways, from the most idealistic version where Amélie finally professes her love for Angela to the most devastating one where she only comes to find her to end her life. But this, all this warmth inside her chest meeting a wall of ice upon realizing Amélie’s never going to be the same, is something she could’ve never prepared for.

Just when she feels like her heart is going to give out, Sombra’s fingers twitch. Amélie’s eyes try to meet Angela’s, but Angela rushes forward to the table with a small flashlight to check Sombra’s pupil reflexes the second she opens her eyes.

They work perfectly, and as soon as she’s done, Sombra sits up with a groan. “What happened?”

“You tell me,” Amélie says, a sharp edge to her tone. “I thought you were unhackable.”

Sombra shoots her a look. “Everything can be hacked, and everyone. They just caught me off guard.” She turns her hand and flexes her fingers, a flickering image appearing out of nowhere. With a sigh, she squishes the image with her other hand until it disappears. She must’ve turned off until she can find the time to fix her cybernetic systems and upgrade her firewalls. “Time to start over.”

“Who did your surgeries?” Angela asks, gesturing at the spot where the implants disappear into the back of Sombra’s skull. “This is some advanced technology.”

Sombra gives her a long look, almost like she’s studying her, and then lets out a chuckle. “Dr. Angela Ziegler, isn’t it? You have quite the reputation. Lots of papers on your name, too.”

It takes Angela a second to realize that Sombra can’t possibly be doing research on her as they speak, which means she did it beforehand, otherwise she would’ve never recognized her this quickly. Which means Amélie must have talked about her. Angela’s heart flutters at the realization, and she’s not sure whether to disappointed or relieved that Amélie hasn’t forgotten about her, in any sense of the word.

“I’m flattered,” she says, unsure what to do next. She’s clearly not going to get any answers from Sombra, and judging from the way Amélie is restlessly leaning from one hip to another, they’re about to leave.

“Well, you did fix me back up,” Sombra says, an easy grin on her lips. Nothing about her behavior indicates that she’s in any distress from being hacked or unconscious for what must have been several hours, but there’s a slight tension in her shoulders. Angela wonders how long she has gotten used to having the world at her fingertips, and she can’t imagine having to suddenly adjust to living without that, even if it’s just for a short while.

Sombra must have noticed the way Angela is staring at her, trying to find any sign of weakness through her cheerful façade. She winks. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m fine. And you’ve got the world’s greatest hacker on your side.”

“We have to go,” Amélie says, her tone impatient. “We already wasted too much time coming here.”

“That’s all on you,” Sombra shrugs, hopping off the table. Her fingers are twitching, used to being able to pull up a screen out of thin air, and when she faces Angela, her expression has grown serious. “You saved my life. If you ever need anything, look up my name in any search engine and I’ll come find you.”

“Just doing my job,” Angela says, but the unexpected warmth from Sombra is a nice change from the cold attitude Amélie has maintained the entire night. She can see why Amélie likes her.

“We need to go to Mexico, but first I propose hitting up a bar or something. I’m ready for a really strong drink,” Sombra says with a smirk. She taps Amélie’s shoulder in what must be an unspoken agreement, and then vanishes through the half open door. Angela stares at the spot where Sombra had been standing less than a second ago, but then her attention is drawn to Amélie readying herself to follow her.

“So that’s it? You show up out of nowhere, years after we last saw each other, with no explanation or anything, demanding I help your friend, and then you just leave?” Rationally Angela knows a lot has changed and she is no longer entitled to knowing _anything_ about Amélie, but she can’t help but to try and prolong her presence.

For a moment Amélie’s eyes fill with emotion. Without warning she reaches out to cup one of her cheeks with cold fingers, pressing a soft kiss against the other. The sudden gesture sends a shiver down Angela’s spine, and she’s not sure if it’s because of the cold or because this is the first sign that Amélie might not be a lost cause after all.

“Merci,” Amélie whispers into her ear, her cool breath leaving goosebumps on Angela’s skin, and then she’s gone.

Angela rids the examination room of any evidence they’d been there and walks home in a daze, half convinced all of this was just a dream. When she finally climbs into her bed an hour later, she can still feel the ghost of Amélie’s lips on her cheek, and she raises one hand to her face.

That kiss was a sign that Amélie’s not lost forever. Hope fills Angela’s chest. She’s going to bring Amélie back to her. She just doesn’t know how. Yet.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY [JESS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuripirate)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/luthvers) | [tumblr](lenacorporations.tumblr.com) | [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/youmeandem)


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